


Soft as Lace Clinging to the Grass

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair Brushing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military, Minor Character Deaths, i spent two pages on felix's hair, no regrets, rodrigue lonato christophe glenn are all established dead before story starts, war buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21780595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Ashe is making his annual visit to Lonato and Christophe's graves when he encounters an unexpected visitor (Felix) from his disastrous military days.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40
Collections: FE3H Holiday Gift Exchange





	Soft as Lace Clinging to the Grass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silquefaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silquefaye/gifts).



> This is for an exchange so I really, really hope the requester enjoys it. I went with a modern AU where they're sad, worn down war buddies trying to cope with civilian life. Fodland's military is not meant as an allegory for any ACTUAL military. I just thought the idea of Ashe and Felix trying to cope with what they've had to do during war was a good set up for a hurt/comfort fic. 
> 
> There's a passing mention of Lonato's death, but no detail, just a mention that it occurred.

Frost spread a delicate blanket of lace over the grass. The graveyard looked suspended in time, frozen in a moment and not just by the crisp air. The trees were bare, pale skeletons. A fringe of black iron bordered the cemetery, cutting it off from the rest of the world. The sky was a gray veil, a suffocating mask closing in on every side.

Ashe crunched through the frost, his boots paving a path among the silent tombstones marching into the distance. His breath puffed out before him when he paused. The tombstones sat side by side, waiting for him. Ashe stood between them, looking from one to the other, his hands clenched in the pockets of a heavy winter coat. 

_Lonato Gildas Gaspard_

_Christophe Gaspard_

They'd given them no epithets. Indeed, Ashe had fought just to have them buried here, but this was where they belonged, no matter what cruel things anyone else might say. 

Ashe knelt between the graves, paying no heed to the frost that grasped at the knees of his jeans. He took two coins from his pocket and kissed them before setting one atop each grave. They were the last ones, the final tokens from their family trip to Brigid. The currency was useless in Fodlan, but Ashe had kept it all the same. 

"Ubert?"

Ashe startled. He turned to find a man watching him from a few paces away. Ashe rose, brushing dew and grass off his jeans. 

The man stepped closer. He was about the same height as Ashe with blue-black hair pulled into a tight bun. 

"Felix Fraldarius." 

Felix nodded, though it hadn't been a question. Everyone at the military academy knew the name Fraldarius. Generation after generation of the Fraldarius family had arrived and quickly shot up the ranks. 

Until Felix. 

"Ashe, was it?" Felix said. He got closer, close enough to glance over Ashe's shoulder and pick out the names on the graves behind him. "Sorry."

"Oh," Ashe said. "Yeah. I was just ... I visit every year." 

"You always were diligent." 

Ashe wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, but then, Felix had always been difficult to read, even back in their military days. They'd both stuck out among the other recruits: Ashe was a former thief with no lineage to speak of and Felix was, despite being a Fraldarius, the most obstinate recruit ever to join Faerghus' army. 

"Are you here to visit someone?" Ashe said. 

Felix flinched and Ashe wished he could take back the words. 

"Finished," Felix said. 

"Oh, yeah, me too, I suppose." 

Felix's cool amber eyes regarded Ashe for a moment as they stood in the chill, silent cemetery, a sharp contrast to all the gray. "I could use a drink," he said. "You?" 

Ashe didn't pause to ponder the strangeness of the chance meeting. "Yeah," he said.

#

The morning Ashe learned Lonato was dead, his shoes were missing. He searched under his bunk, under the thin sheets of the military cot, in his trunk of personal belongings. Everywhere he could think of in the cramped barracks.

Then he heard a snicker. The rest of his platoon had their backs to him, their eyes skittering away every time he tried to meet them.

Ashe choked down a frown and glanced at the clock. Their commander would burst in any moment. He got the rest of his uniform on, but still had no idea what to do about his missing shoes as the door to the sleeping quarters rattled. Near panic, Ashe pulled on an extra pair of socks and hurried into line.

The commander stepped into the barracks and paced down the line, examining the tidiness of the uniforms and bunks. Finally, he came to Ashe.

"Ubert," the man said. One eyebrow rose as he took in Ashe's disheveled uniform and missing shoes. "Where are your boots?"

"Sir, they appear to be missing," Ashe said, struggling to keep staring straight ahead. 

"Hm." 

Ashe braced for the tirade of abuse he got most days, but it never came. 

"My office," the commander said.

"Yes, sir."

"Now," he said. 

Ashe blinked. How much trouble was he in this time? And why? He'd been summoned to the commander's office plenty of times, but never so urgently. He swallowed around a lump.

"Did I stutter, Ubert?" the commander said. "Now means now."

Ashe startled. "Y-yes, sir," he said.

#

"And then there was the time they stole my shoes and I just threw on some extra socks for muster," Ashe said. He chuckled at the glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling the amber liquid.

"Assholes," Felix hissed, his eyes as biting and bright as the whiskey.

Ashe shrugged. "I don't know what I expected, to be honest. I was young and idealistic. I thought the military meant honor and sacrifice and loyalty and all that. Not boys playing pranks on each other."

"Is that why you joined?" Felix said. "Honor and all that?"

Ashe mulled over the question. Around them, the bar was hushed, full of dull chatter like their own. They'd chosen the first place they'd spotted after leaving the cemetery, a somber little dive bar with only a handful of other patrons that evening. Wood and alcohol warmed the air, making it feel laden with time and wear. 

"I joined because I wanted to make amends," Ashe said. "I wanted to be more than what I started as. I wanted to undo some of my past, I suppose. I wanted to prove to Lonato that I was worth taking a chance on, that he'd made the right choice."

Ashe looked up and found Felix's amber eyes studying him, smokey as bitter alcohol and nearly as intoxicating. Felix looked away quickly, but Ashe lingered on the harsh lines of his face, thin and worn and carved by suffering. 

It was strange, seeing this shadow of his past up close for the first time. They'd barely interacted as recruits, had known each other only in passing. Yet there was no one else Ashe could imagine sharing these memories with right now. 

"What about you?" Ashe said. "Why did you sign up?"

"I'm a Fraldarius," Felix grumbled. "What else was I going to do?"

"Why did you leave then?" Ashe said.

Felix winced, the lines around his mouth folding into familiar cuts. "Because Glenn died. Then Rodrigue." He took a long drink. "You?"

"Christophe. Then Lonato." 

"I'm sorry."

Ashe shrugged. " 'Dishonorable discharge.' I still don't really believe it."

"There's no honor in what they're doing," Felix said. "I would have left even if Glenn was still alive."

"Really? You were so..."

"Talented?" A wry smile twisted Felix's mouth. "So they said. Talented at shooting someone dead from 1,000 yards. But for what?"

"To end the rebellion," Ashe tried.

"Why?" Felix said.

Ashe blinked. He'd never really wondered why.

"It's bullshit," Felix said bitterly. He finished his drink and thudded the glass down on the bar. "They tell you you're saving the world. By the time you figure out that you're the bad guy, it's too late. You're invested. You're pushed up the ranks. You owe it to your 'brothers' to keep blowing people's brains out of their heads. And for what? So the folks sitting around directing us like toy soldiers can snatch up a little extra territory?" 

A sheet of silence fell like a smothering blanket. Felix's words rang in Ashe's mind. He'd started out as optimistic as any other recruit, but by the time he walked off he had nothing left. They'd taken Lonato and Christophe in the name of "justice." Ashe couldn't even face his siblings after the things he'd done for Faerghus. 

"This sucks," Felix said.

"Yeah," Ashe admitted. 

Felix slid off the bar stool, leaving behind some cash for their drinks. Ashe followed, shrugging into his coat, feeling almost pulled along in Felix's wake. He was caught in a tide dragging him out to sea, yet Ashe had no desire to struggle against it.

The night air cut through him when they exited the bar, sharp and shocking. Still they lingered, neither seeming to want to take that first step that would send them veering off in opposite directions like opposing magnets. 

Felix looked up the street, then back at Ashe. He squirmed, muttering about the cold. "Hey, listen, this is…weird, but..." 

Ashe froze, more from fear of how the sentence would end than the snap in the air. 

Felix looked down at his shoes, shuffling from foot to foot. "Do you want to talk more? I know it's abrupt. I just haven't met anyone else since...since leaving. You know how it is."

"Yes," Ashe said, his breath a white puff of surprise. 

Felix finally looked up. "I don't live that far from here. Did you drive?"

"No."

"Good. Me neither. Do you mind the walk?"

"No," Ashe said. 

Felix hesitated another moment. He seemed to mutter to himself before turning and starting down the empty sidewalk. Ashe hurried to follow.

#

"Take those damn things off," the commander said outside his office.

Ashe yanked off the dirty layers of socks and stepped barefoot into the commander's office. 

"Sit," the commander said, waving at a chair as he settled behind a large oak desk. 

Ashe lowered cautiously into the chair, bracing for the scolding surely about to arrive. 

But the commander just steepled his hands and sighed. "What should we do with you, Ubert?"

Ashe dared not answer. 

"First the Fraldarius kid goes strange on us," the commander said. "Now we have you." He shook his head. "This should be simple, you see? Come in. Do as your told. That's it."

"If I… uh…"

"Quiet, Ubert," the commander cut in. "Listen, I've gotten some news this morning. About your father."

Ashe sat up straighter. "Did they receive the appeal? Did they read my letter? I explained everything. He didn't--"

"Quiet."

Ashe snapped his mouth shut. He clasped his hands to stop them shaking.

"They received your Appeal of Sentence," the commander said. "It was rejected."

The commander's words struck Ashe like a hammer to the chest. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold. "No..." 

"They carried out the sentence."

"No," Ashe said, louder. "No."

"This morning." The commander's hard face softened for a moment. "It's over, son. He's gone."

The world fell away. Ashe didn't hear the rest of the commander's words, didn't feel the hands of the lieutenant who pulled him out of the chair and marched him back to the barracks, didn't even know he'd started crying until the tears were streaming down his face, sobs threatening to choke him. 

Later, much later, his platoon returned from their morning exercises. Someone returned Ashe's boots, but he did not put them on. He stripped out of his military uniform then and there, bundling up his meager possessions, and walked barefoot off the military base.

#

Felix's apartment was a bit farther from the bar than he'd implied, but the walk warmed Ashe. The eeriness of the quiet, empty city streets felt appropriate that night. It was as though the entire world shied away from them, horrified by the prospect of the two specters passing through the gloom.

They climbed a couple flights of stairs outside a decrepit apartment building and Felix dug out his keys. Ashe stepped into a narrow entrance hall with one pair of shoes neatly set beside the door. Ashe removed his boots while Felix flicked on a light.

"It's small," Felix said, "but I get to live alone." 

Ashe followed him into a room cramped with just an old couch and a box being used as a table. He saw a kitchen off to the side and one door farther back--a bedroom, he supposed. The whole place was brutally sparse. Nothing hung on the walls. No family photos or birthday cards or mail sat on the cardboard "table." Other than the couch, there was a single chair, a rickety pop-up table and one forgotten cup on the floor. 

Felix scooped up the cup and took it to the kitchen while Ashe settled on the couch. He returned with water for both of them. 

"I know," Felix said in response to some unvoiced question. "But it turns out not many people are in the market for a sniper outside of that damn military." 

"I understand," Ashe said. And truly, he did. It was little better than the sorts of places where he and his siblings had sometimes had to live before Lonato took them in. 

"What do you do now?" Felix said.

"I cook," Ashe said. 

"Where?"

"Anywhere," Ashe said. "Restaurants always need more back of house." 

Felix nodded. "You were a good cook." 

Ashe smiled. When the army had started losing its patience with him, they'd shoved him into kitchen duty. They didn't realize it was a blessing. That was where Ashe had re-learned to love cooking, a skill he'd picked up from Christophe. 

"It was fun," Ashe said. 

"You look like you're seeing ghosts."

Ashe shivered. "Sort of." 

"Sorry."

"It's OK," Ashe said. "I mean, it's not. They're dead. But it's as OK as it can be."

Felix laughed, a hard, bitter sound like ice cracking under too much stress. "As OK as it can be. That should be their motto. Join the army. It's as OK as it can be." 

"It's honest, at least." 

"Let me get something," Felix said suddenly, jumping up. When he returned, he had a small blue box with him. The metal hinge was rusted. The lion engraved on the lid had faded and dented over time. 

"You still have your kit?" Ashe said. 

The hinge squealed as Felix opened the box. Inside, neat as the day they'd been issued, lay a hand towel, small scissors, a comb, a basic sewing kit, bandages, pain killers and a toothbrush.

Ashe marveled. "Why do you still have this?" 

"I stole it," Felix said. 

"What?"

"On my way out. I took it."

"Why?"

Felix shrugged. "Spite." 

Ashe brushed his fingers over the scissors. "You always refused to cut your hair to regulation length."

"Spite," Felix said again. 

"Is it still long?" Ashe said.

Felix blinked at this and Ashe felt color touch his cheeks. 

"Yeah," Felix said, his voice stretched tight. 

Ashe swallowed hard. He dared not speak again, dared not say something even more stupid somehow. Sure, he'd admired the young, swaggering Fraldarius who'd joined their ranks, refusing to obey orders he didn't like, refusing to cut his long, silky, blue-black hair. And maybe, just once or twice, he'd woken from some unfortunate dream about those smooth locks. But that was a lifetime ago. 

Felix cleared his throat, setting the box aside. "Well," he said. But neither of them seemed capable of inserting some benign conversation in to shove down the tension. 

"I, uh, I was just curious," Ashe said. He had to say something, anything, goddess help him. 

"No, it's fine," Felix said. "It's, um, pretty much the same." 

And all at once he tugged at the tie, setting his hair loose. It cascaded down, a dark waterfall spilling past his shoulders and settling straight and sleek. His hair seemed to shift between blue and black as it as it caught the light, framing his pale face. 

Ashe gaped. His face was burning now, there was no denying it, yet he sat frozen on the couch. 

"I'm not great at taking care of it," Felix said, tugging at a handful of hair as though it wasn't the most glorious mane in the universe. "I just wanted to annoy them by keeping it." 

"Oh." It was an exhale more than an actual word.

Pale pink tinged the top of Felix's cheeks. "It's a hassle. I should cut it."

"No." The word burst out before Ashe could catch it. Felix raised an eyebrow. "I mean… I… I could help." 

"Help?" The eyebrow arched higher. 

Ashe fumbled for the army kit, extracting the comb. "I used to do my siblings' hair all the time, when it was just the three of us. Even when they got older, I liked brushing it for them. It was… soothing." 

Felix sat still as a statue. Ashe feared he might flee any moment, like a startled cat. Finally Felix nodded minutely, such a slight motion Ashe nearly missed it. He shuffled around on the couch so his back faced Ashe. All that long, loose hair hung before Ashe, falling just past Felix's shoulders, spread on his back like glossy raven feathers. 

"Is here OK?" Felix said. 

Ashe blinked back to reality. "Y-yes." 

He scooted a little closer on the couch. His hands trembled as he reached for Felix's hair. He expected to wake up in a miserable army bunk any moment, his shoes missing. 

The hair Ashe ran through his fingers remained solid and real as he carefully gathered it all so it lay neatly down Felix's back. He lingered on each strand as he collected it. It was somehow even softer than he'd imagined, like water running over his fingers. He fussed more than strictly necessary, smoothing out the hair so it all rested neatly before him, a tumble of azure as terrifyingly lovely as a fathomless ocean trench. 

Ashe ran the comb along Felix's hair, detangling the ends first. He'd always started at the bottom and worked his way up when he combed Rowan and Fina's hair. He did the same now for Felix, sure to pinch higher up if he was picking at a particularly tough knot so it wouldn't hurt. 

Felix may as well have been a stone. He did not move, even when Ashe worried he'd gotten a bit too forceful with a tough spot. He didn't speak or flinch or change his breaths. 

Ashe, too, worked in silence. Even when the knots were gone, he continued, letting the comb whisper through those dark ribbons of silk in long, luxurious strokes. It wasn't about tidiness now, but rather the motion itself, the rhythm of the comb, the hushed rasp of hair sliding between plastic teeth. The soft susuration of Felix's hair was a melody, a soothing song enveloping them in this moment of shared, silent commiseration. 

Ashe set the comb aside. With the hair neat and smooth, he started using his hands, combing with his fingers. Here, finally, he heard a soft exhale from Felix, saw his shoulders tick downward just a bit. Ashe slipped a hand under the hair, letting it slide over his palm before his other hand caught it and repeated the motion. Waves of dark feathers washed over his skin, a tide of satin slick against his palms. He got his fingers between the strands, dragged from Felix's scalp down to his back. 

Felix made a startled little noise. 

"I'm sorry," Ashe said, withdrawing his hands. Goddess, what had come over him? 

"No," Felix said. "It felt… nice." 

"O-oh," Ashe said.

There was a thick pause, then Felix said, "You can keep going. If you want."

Goddess, how he wanted to. Felix would never realize how much he wanted to. Ashe didn't try to explain, just got his hands back in those blue-black lashes of hair, that soft river that felt like honey oozing over his bare skin. 

Ashe felt a tear slip down his cheek. He didn't try to catch it. He'd never imagined that after starting his day in a cemetery, he'd end up here. He never dared hope that on the worst day of the year someone would stumble accidentally into his life and bring such softness. 

He must have sniffled because Felix turned and caught him crying. 

"Is something wrong?" Felix asked. "I'm sorry if… I don't even know. If something happened. If I did something." 

Ashe shook his head, smiling even as more tears came. "No," Ashe said. "I'm happy." 

"Happy?"

He scrubbed the tears from his freckled cheeks. "This day is usually so miserable. My siblings refuse to come. It's just me. And now somehow I'm here and… It's just really nice." 

Now Ashe was sure Felix was blushing. "I'm glad," Felix said. 

Felix picked at the couch cushion between them. "I… um… I wouldn't mind," he said. "If you wanted to continue." 

Ashe smiled, his eyes still watery. "I'd like that."

Felix turned back around. Ashe slid his fingers into blue-black tumbles of hair as soft as frost spreading a delicate blanket of lace over the grass.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent way too much time on that hair brushing scene. No regrets.
> 
> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


End file.
